


Ten

by pastel_didactic



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Light Character Introspection, M/M, attempting to cope, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 07:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20422148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastel_didactic/pseuds/pastel_didactic
Summary: Akira contemplates what could have happened if he'd had ten more seconds in the boiler room.





	Ten

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first official posting on this site! It's been a very, very long time since I've posted anything anywhere for public consumption, so I hope you like it! This was a tiny one-shot I wrote while decidedly avoiding my Calculus homework. I just have a lot of Akeshu feels, you know?
> 
> Just a head's up, this DOES contain spoilers for the plot of Persona 5. If you aren't through at least the November plot line yet, you may want to stop here!

To the rest of the waking world, on the morning of November 25, 20XX, Shibuya had one more missing person. The report was filed, there was perhaps one news story about the report, and then Akechi Goro’s name was never spoken of again by the media. This angered Akira on a level he wouldn’t even touch. His blood boiled and stomach churned whenever passerby whispered his name in concert with, “What ever happened to him?” or, “I heard that he was kidnapped,” followed by some other form of blog-worthy, groundless gossip. A mockery of the truth.

He died. 

He died, and the Phantom Thieves were the only ones who knew. 

Akira liked to think that Akechi died a hero. He died on his own terms, perhaps not at the time and place of his choosing, but he died for something he believed in-- or at least, Akira thought that was the case. He separated himself from them, saving them from a version of himself. 

The idea that Akechi did that because he knows what he, himself, is capable of and didn’t want that power turned loose against them anymore kept Akira up at night. 

Despite having just finished attacking them in a fit of rage, with all of his power and gusto, and despite the shadow version of himself not having that strength, he still felt the necessity to cordon off the boiler room. That puzzled Akira to no end. Why would he do that? Surely there were strength in numbers, and nine guns were far more powerful than just one. With their combined skills, especially at the time, even the backup would have fallen asunder in a matter of seconds. 

Maybe Akechi wanted to die. 

Akira doesn’t think too much about that. 

Akira heard people whisper about Akechi at the jazz club they used to frequent. The bartender sliding Akira a water as they reminisced. “What ever happened to him? He disappeared so suddenly. I hope he’s alright-- It’s like no one ever talks about him anymore.” Akira only nodded, and left after finishing his water without a word. He was coming to hate that phrase. 

Once he’d returned home, to parents who didn’t really care whether or not he stayed, Akira turned right back around and called his friends. The blue van had barely gone around the block from his house before turning around to collect him. From the second he’d walked back into that house, his father made clear that he was not welcome, and his mother looked put off that he’d even returned at all. His record may have been cleared, but the disgrace was still too much. People talk, apparently, louder than the truth. So he and his friends gathered what little was left of his belongings, and returned him to Leblanc. Sojiro was over the moon, and the room was his for as long as he wanted. Coming back into Leblanc, so soon after believing he wouldn’t be able to come back for some time, felt surreal Akira. As if he’d taken a day trip instead of attempted moving back home.

The sun was just going down, warm light filtering through the windows, glinting off of the Sayuri on the wall. He opened the door to the smell of fresh coffee and delicious curry, and unbidden from his mind, a ghost came to haunt him in the form of low, teasing words: 

_Welcome home._

At first, Akira jolted, his eyes inexplicably drawn to the second barstool from the door. The seat was empty, surprising no one, and Sojiro leveled him a strange look. 

Ryuji sent him a knowing one.

Akira couldn’t tell which was worse. 

As luck would have it, Shujin hadn’t filtered him out of their records yet, so re-enrollment was quite simple. Kawakami was happy to have him back, and with her reignited passion for teaching he found himself continually challenged. The difficulty kept him busy, kept his mind off of the ghost that haunted his every step. At one point, Akira attempted to take a break from studying and picked up a crossword puzzle book Boss had sat down earlier. He could have watched videos on his phone, but Morgana was napping peacefully on the seat in front of him and he didn’t want to disturb him. Opening the book with the intention of finding an empty puzzle, Akira’s eyes quickly picked out the pristine handwriting of one former detective in some of the puzzles, along with sketches in the margins. 

Akira had no idea Akechi could draw. He flipped the pages, looking for more. He found a sketch of Akira behind the counter, so carefully crafted in the small margin Akira wondered how long Akechi had spent on that single one. The quality was almost… loving. The sketch itself was simple, Akira at an angle, hands in his pockets watching the coffee brew. Squinting to look closer, Akira noticed that he could even see the frames of his glasses etched onto the page. Underneath him was some erased text, and Akira found himself tilting the page to see the indents of the writing in the light. What he could make out chilled his blood and made him feel so nauseous he nearly excused himself to the bathroom. 

Written on the page in uncharacteristically shaky hand, was _ I’m sorry, Akira. _ The sketch was dated 11/19. The day before the… Oh. Akira’s eyes stung as he read the words, then read them again, and then once more just to be sure. Even his name looked beautiful in Goro’s fine print.

If Akira had more time, he wondered what he’d say. “I’m sorry too,” was high on the list. 

“I’m sorry the world became so dark to you, you believed this was a viable plan.” 

“I’m sorry you still felt you had to go through with my murder, despite obviously having some kind of apprehension over it.” 

“I’ve always honestly wanted you around, and it really hurts you never believed me.” 

There were so many words Akira could have said-- why didn’t he? Why didn’t he open his goddamn mouth and speak!? The button was right behind him, on the pole by the stairs-- why didn’t he try? The partition was just a few steps ahead of him why didn’t he move!? Instead, he stood there like a fucking doofus with his hands in his pockets, more Akira than Joker in that one disarming moment. He let Goro sacrifice himself, and he didn’t even try to stop him. If he had just ten more seconds, what could he possibly have done? Could he have taken those few steps forward? Could he have tried to open the grate using the button panel? Would he have stepped between Goro and the shadow, at great risk to himself?

If Akira woke up in the morning with the ability to rewind time to that day, that precise moment, there were any number of actions Akira could have done to save Goro. Letting Goro be put in that situation at all was the biggest regret of his life. If all of that had to happen, if Akira couldn’t have changed anything else, that would be the one variable he’d change. Akira would absolutely put himself between Goro and danger if he had to, even though Goro had previously been so willing to kill him. Even that, Akira doubted. 

Thinking back to last year, thinking back to all the times Goro met up with him to just talk. The late nights spent in this very cafe, debating about morality and philosophy. Debating cases Akechi was working on, even though he wasn’t supposed to tell Akira anything about them. The way Goro would look at him when the time was past 8pm and the trains were very nearly close to closing for the night. The look that said he didn’t really want to go, but obligations being as they were… 

Goro never would stay. 

Akira tried so hard to get Goro to spend the night just once. He didn’t even know why, and he wasn’t sure what they’d do if Goro did stay. Akira supposed he just didn’t want Goro to stop their conversations, or maybe because for every moment he was in Akira’s sight, Goro wasn’t off killing somebody else. Doing gods know what for gods know who in some shady business transaction where he was a tool used to justify means. Goro’s ledger was red enough, and he was far too young to have any blood on his hands. They all were. With everything that happened, Akira frequently forgot that they were just a gaggle of teenagers. 

Children. 

They were just children, and Goro had been killing at such a young age it still staggered Akira when he thought about it.

Sitting the booklet aside, open to the page with his likeness on the page, Akira closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the booth. Just ten seconds. If Akira had stopped gawking for ten seconds, and actually moved, perhaps Goro would be alive today. Perhaps he’d be here, playfully shading Akira for letting the past get to him in such a malicious way. Did Goro’s entire life amount to just ten seconds, or was that just Akira grasping at what could have been, had events panned out differently? Would what Akira wanted even change the future? He can’t speak for Goro’s desires, whether he actually wanted to go through with all of his plans, now that the man is dead. What would Goro want? Would he rather Akira be condemned to suffer without him, or join him in some semblance of peace? Does Akira want that?

“Does it even matter what I want, now that he’s gone?” Akira whispered into the silence. 

The silence answered with itself, weighted, devoid of any comfort.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm very anxious about posting stuff again, but I hoped you liked it! I do plan to write more, and I could be persuaded to come back to this piece to maybe write more or an additional chapter. Let me know what you think!


End file.
